


Practical Demonstrations

by Hopetohell



Category: Hellraiser (Movies)
Genre: Comeplay, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Restraints, Smut, Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hopetohell/pseuds/Hopetohell
Summary: If he does not have the words, then he will have to show you.
Relationships: Mike (Hellraiser)/Reader
Kudos: 2





	Practical Demonstrations

What was it like, in the box, in the dark, in the night that never ended? What was it like in the silence and stillness, in your cold little prison where all you could see was nothing and all you could feel was your nails tearing on the pine boards? What was it like, Mike?

_Let me show you._

What was it like, there in the dream, when you were hooked and held and everything around you burned red with the bursting veins in your eyes?

_Do you trust me?_

They call it _coming to terms_ but that’s a strange way to talk about the grief of the unreal, the nights when he wakes with a shiver and shake, when he holds the screams inside himself but they burn like acid in his veins. 

_Mike? What is it?_

_I—_

And if he cannot say the words then maybe he can show you; he disappears for hours and returns with tools and toys and a look that’s like an illusion, fear or rage or care depending on the angle. Maybe it’s all of those. Maybe it’s none. But the end is the same: he puts you into thigh cuffs to bind your hands at your sides; he spreads your legs wide open and binds them to the bedposts. He gives you blindfold and headphones and in the end you cannot move beyond a side-to-side rocking wiggle; you can speak but cannot hear or see. 

And the room is cold; all your hair stands on end as you strain to hear him but he could be absolutely anywhere. 

( _I had this dream once. I sank to the bottom of a swimming pool and as I lay there watching the water ripple overhead, I wasn’t scared. I was just sad, because I was alone._

_So what happened?_

_I don’t know. I lay there for a while, and then I woke up, and it was just another day. And somehow that was sadder than the dream.)_

__There are Mike’s lips ghosting up your neck; he closes his teeth so gently over your pulse and whispers words that form as soft vibrations through your skin. It could be a litany of his sins, or yours. It could be a song for the damned, but whatever it is, he breathes its secret into your skin. And he is moving.

His thumb on your lower lip is an order, soft and insistent; his cock between your lips is an act of possession. He is thick and hot and moving in you slow but unrelenting, deeper and deeper, cradling his broad hand behind your head to perfect the angle. 

( _Why do you like it? I mean, I know it feels good to have you suck me, but what’s in it for you? It makes you cry and drool and that turns me on so fucking much but if you don’t like it—_

_Mike. Sweetheart. It’s so good to feel owned, to give up control of everything, even breathing, because I trust you. I love that you can use my mouth to take your pleasure. It feels— safe. Don’t laugh, I know it sounds weird. But when you’re down my throat I know you’re watching out for me.)_

He is fully seated and pulling tears from your eyes behind the blindfold; your own moans are lost to your ears but must reach him for how he thrusts in sharp and sudden, suffusing all your senses with musk and salt and the bitter edge of desperation. 

And just as he starts to swell and pulse in earnest he pulls free; his come spatters hot and sticky over your lips and down your neck, and he smears a hand through it; he presses his fingers to your lips and makes you taste; he shifts and swipes his hand again and his hand is at your cunt, stroking semen up inside you, coating your walls with the bitter sign of his possession. And there’s something pressing at you after, cool and slick and impersonal; a toy, obviously, but rendered strange by the lack of input; it could be ice or stone or a monstrous finger, anything except the silicone you know it really is. 

But that wink-and-nod unknowing has you gasping please, every sense screaming to get at the toy as it breaches you again and again, but all you have is touch, and it is magnified with every thrust. Mike’s hand on your thigh is hot like a brand and surely he will have left a handprint behind; surely the toy is of such a size that it will leave you gaping open for him, all your secrets exposed. 

( _When you say you want to be ruined—_

_I mean I want the memory of being stretched open, of feeling your fingers sloppy in me. I know it doesn’t last, but I want to pretend, to feel like having you inside me is the only way I’ll ever come again.)_

When you come it shouldn’t be a surprise and yet it is; that coiled thread is pulled taut and snaps in an instant, jerking your hips to chase the toy and flee from it at once. He takes it to the barest edge of too much and then he’s leaving you to clench around the toy while he gives you back your eyes and ears. 

_So, like that, but without the sex._

_What? Oh. The— shit. I forgot why we were doing this. I’m—_

_Don’t say you’re sorry. Please. This was good for me. I felt in control, for once. It was nice. And god, babe, seeing you helpless. It was so good, and I want— I want to do it again._ As he frees you from your bonds his hands are everywhere warm and soothing; he smiles a little as he takes up the toy and gives it a little kick, tasting your need and the barest remnants of his own come, twitching with interest, eyeing you speculatively. _Babe, you wanna—?_

_Fucking yes._


End file.
